


Surface

by Thehoes



Series: Legacy [1]
Category: Big Bang (Band), GOT7, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: A little bit of Sky High AU, Angst, Don’t Have to Read Part 1, Drama, Ever heard of Serious Crack?, Lowkey Incredibles AU, M/M, MPREG hints, More ships to be added, More tags to be added, Multi, Slow Burn, Starts off as High School AU, Turning Stereotypes on their heads, idol cameos, mutant AU, rating to go up, superhero au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-04 05:17:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14585766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thehoes/pseuds/Thehoes
Summary: In a world where being a Super Hero has become the top career option for mutants a new generation emerges. Seokjin is part of that generation, and his goal is to be number one in the nation, even if that means beating his father’s legacy.





	Surface

**Author's Note:**

> This, is very self- indulgent. We hope you enjoy anyways. Our goal was to make something fun, while tackling the tropes and steoreotypes that follow each character.  
> Hence, the Serious Crack.
> 
> You don’t have to read part 1 to understand this, but just know that we drop the reader into a world where mutants and superheroes are an everyday thing. Especially for the main characters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seokjin and Jinyoung are going to be number 1 in the country, Namjoon and Yoongi just want to pass their exam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome, enjoy.

The room is dark with long strips of blue lights along the walls. Seokjin takes a left, hearing the metal creak with heavy robotic footsteps not too far away. He jumps towards the first sloped ledge he sees.

He let out a puff of air, trying to keep his brown fringe out of his eyes, and he peers over the top, in the distance a seven foot robot is scanning the area, its eyes bright red, and a glimmering gold chip reflects from its chest.

“One is in front of me. And he’s got what we need.” He whispers ducking back down.

“Just trapped two in a maze.” Jinyoung’s soft voice crackles through the communicator in Seokjin’s ear.

“Ok cool, then I’ll have it down in thirty seconds.”

“Good because I think one of them has figured out my illusion.”

“Ah only one? You’ve got this.” Seokjin responds with a tinge of amusement at Jinyoung’s immediate huff. Seokjin rolls his shoulders and leaps over the high edge of the metallic wall. He stretches his limbs, feeling their reach pull and the light sensation of the muscles elongating towards a bar at the ceiling. He swings his body forward. The robot aims towards him and shoots out neon green lasers.

He curls into a ball, snapping his arms back to their regular length and flips forward, dodging the lasers.

It is only a few more seconds before his foot comes crashing at the robot’s face. 

Reaching forward he stretches his arms again, gloved fingers digging into the metallic grooves of its chest plate, and flips forward again, bringing his feet to the ground and feeling the robot come crashing in front of him, with its torso separating from its attached pelvic joints.

The eyes die to a cool dark red, and Seokjin leans forward and yanks the gold rectangular chip from the center of its chest. He hears two more crashes of metal hitting metal to his far left.

“Done.” Jinyoung says.

Seokjin expels a breath, settles his left hand on his hip and holds up the gold piece in front of his face. He grins. “Me too.”

The room then filled with bright pale yellow lights and the walls went from black to white. The large silver partitions withdraw into the floor exposing the expanse of the field sized room. A metallic carnage of androids lay exposed only to fall through trap doors beneath them, back to the workshop to be repaired.

“Mission Cleared; Congratulations.” A cybernetic woman’s voice said from the speakers.

There is a small sound of applause as the room fills with wide eyed freshman, and the leading instructor Mr. Lee.

“Another Level Ten simulation test completed by Jinyoung and Seokjin. Look to them as inspiration for honing your powers, they are seniors in our Hero training program track, and while not everyone reaches the point they reach of completing these difficult training routes, it is something to aspire to be.” Mr. Lee nods his head towards Seokjin and Jinyoung who bow back. He pushes up his signature thick black rimmed glasses and stares at them expectantly.

Seokjin smiles over at a set of first years inching towards them in a mild intimidated air of awe and they shrink back pink dusting their faces.

“Good luck with your next three years.” Seokjin says a roll of his shoulders to stretch out the slightest irritation that nags at his joints.

“There’s no shortcuts to here, but if you train everyday, you’ll get better.” Jinyoung took off his helmet and Seokjin hears several elicited gasps. His mouth quirks up in amusement.

“Jinyoung and Seokjin are probably headed to class now after morning relays so they will not be able to answer your questions, however I’m sure the Top two of the class are never unavailable for advice in the hall.” Mr. Lee glances at them from under his glasses and Seokjin and Jinyoung exchange a specific look- Jinyoung a little exasperated, like he’s two seconds from a pout, while Seokjin takes this as his chance to put up his most diplomatic smile.

“Of course,” He hooks arms with Jinyoung and pulls his best friend through the large automatic glass doors into the long glossy hallway that led to the locker rooms. 

It was like clockwork for both of them, enter the locker room, put in the code to their lockers -which are almost always next to each other- grab a towel, and then shower to make themselves decent for class.

“Ugh, next time let’s do training at the end of the day.” Jinyoung says, combing through his now post blow dryer fluffed hair. They weren’t really supposed to have half the things they did in the locker room but being the only ones who actually took advantage of this level of the simulation room-without it being a class requirement- gave them a lot of freedom.

“Hmm. I guess so, but you know I get hungry at the end of the day, makes me sluggish.” Seokjin replies while pulling on his dark cranberry blazer.

“Check?” Seokjin says with a slight head tilt, he waits for Jinyoung to turn to him and watches as sharp brown eyes assess him up and down. Jinyoung’s straight brow furrows a bit.  
He reaches forward and pinches Seokjin's collar between two fingers, pulling it a bit more center. “There.”

“Thanks.” Seokjin pushes forward his fringe, dusting the brown hair above his eyes. 

“Anyways, You’re always hungry, we’re about to head for your second breakfast now, what’s the difference.” Jinyoung flips down the collar of his own button up and tilts his chin, eyes straight at the mirror.

“I dunno, maybe it’s the high density skin, fast recovery time, and quick metabolism that help to remind me that my powers, and body, take a lot of upkeep, like you and your meditation tea .”

Jinyoung rolls his eyes, “I know I know, just- consider it-“

“What if the other top twenty students are using the locker room in the afternoon.” Seokjin pouts. 

Top twenty ranked students from each quarter had extra training privileges without needing permissions from a teacher, Principal Han argued it added to the competitive side of the school.

“Doubt they’re using it everyday they’re probably busy with Basketball games or something,” Jinyoung sighs. “But I guess you’re right, can we switch it up at least, I hate having an audience during training.”

“We could just use the simulation room at my house more often.”

“Yeah but-we can’t keep our ranking up by just practicing at your house.”

Seokjin yawns and stretches his hand out until it reaches their open lockers, there he pulls out Jinyoung’s brown leather bag, and his dusty pink canvas pack.

“Fine.” His hand retracts back to normal length and he tosses Jinyoung his bag. “Come on, we gotta get books and I’ve gotta get a protein shake.”

They walk side by side, Jinyoung with his phone whipped out, and Seokjin with a slight hum of Sistar’s new chart hit under his voice. The white hall stretched as they bypassed the simulation room (where the windows had darkened at this point possibly for freshman training) and past the floor to the vaulted ceiling high trophy case until they reached a wall of noise. 

Down the end of the hall past the locked glass door of the simulation corridors are bright yellow lockers stacked a lot differently from the training room, there is already the buzz and bustle of students walking around.

“Hmm, forty five minutes till class.” Jinyoung says with a glance at his watch.

“Shit- I hope there isn’t a line by the shake lady.” Seokjin waved offhandedly at someone with a letterman over his grey uniform vest, who called ‘Hey Jin,’ while passing.  
“That would require people to actually care about having a vitamin packed shake early in the morning.” 

“Fine- lockers first, and if we’re late for homeroom at least Mrs. Park loves us.” As they walk Seokjin could feel attention turn towards them, that strange parting of the crowded halls and magnetic pull of occasional glances that followed their every move. He imagines it’s simply what came with being top two for the last two years, and he always tries his best to take the attention with his chin tilted slightly high.

It is only expected of them.

 

Namjoon closes his locker with the softest push he can, and turns the knob, still the black handle pops loose, and he winces.

“My locker is still broken.”

Yoongi looks over at him, his copper hair is still a mess from the morning late start and he has half a granola bar in his mouth. “Hm.” He chews the rest of it. He reaches out his hand and taps the handle and tendrils of ice reform the broken piece. 

“Fill out a form.”

Namjoon huffs, hiking his backpack back up the shoulder it hangs off of, and situating the book in his hand. 

“That’ll be my fifteenth one this year.”

“Damn Joon, chill out. They’re gonna start charging you.”

Namjoon cracks a smile and starts to turn around to sulk against his locker when the dual sight of shiny black hair and shiny brown hair, with just a bit of forehead, catches his attention. He immediately ceases all movements.

He knows it’s them, or more specifically, that it’s him. Namjoon tends to have somewhat of a sixth sense for him, like one of his mutant powers is a Seokjin-radar.. He likes to think it’s because they’re connected, which is a lot more romantic than the reality that it’s because his brain has this rapid fire way of associating patterns and small details about things naturally. 

They also just pass down the same hallway his locker is in everyday to head to their homeroom. 

At this point one of the few things he hasn’t pick up about Seokjin is his real last name, because he seems like the type of person who goes with the entrance exam application offer to have a pseudonym. 

Sure enough, as they get closer, the crowds part to reveal the perfect duo. Their faces come into view, along with a glow that follows them. This time it’s more than just their aura, mother nature herself seems to recognize their excellence as the sunlight peering in from the windows accompanies them down the hall, creating a halo. 

Namjoon swears he hears angels sing. 

Right as they are about to pass Namjoon, Mr. Lee’s voice comes on the intercom to tell the school how they should congratulate Choi Seokjin and Kim Jinyoung on another level ten mission completed.

“Seems like they’re going for a new record,” the proud teacher muses and it makes Yoongi scoff, while Namjoon let’s a ‘wow,’ slip from his lips. 

“If anyone could beat the record for most level ten missions completed in a year, it would be Seokjin. He’s just so smart and fast, and he does it with such style. I mean, he’s already got a signature landing and everything. How can someone so cute be so hot and so cool at the same time? He’s literally going to be the best superhero of our generation. You wouldn’t think it by just looking at him, with his perfectly mussed hair, plump lips, dewy skin, and that infectious squeak toy laugh that he could take down the most evil villain, but he can,” Namjoon says, finishing with a sigh, leaning his back on his locker to watch them pass. 

He holds his textbook to his chest for a moment to expel the overtly happy energy that was radiating through him. He turns to watch Seokjin and Jinyoung make their way down the end of hall to their lockers on the opposite side with a dopey smile on his face. “My money’s on him for first place in the showcase.”

“Of course it is, forget that your genius ass is supposed to be in it too-“ Yoongi grumbles but Namjoon continues on.

“Good grades doesn’t always translate well to hero training,” Namjoon spends more than a few unknowing seconds staring at Seokjin with a dopey expression for a while before he starts to register a dull pain in his arm. He tries to ignore it but, the feeling keeps gnawing at his happy Seokjin shaped bubble. 

The longer he ignores it, the worse it gets, until his happy bubble pops and his eyes focus, turning around to the pain and finding a grumpy looking Yoongi staring back at him. He backs away in surprise, but his right arm refuses to move with him, causing his other to flail as he tries to gain equilibrium from the velocity.  
He steadies himself, ending up in a weird crouched stance, and stares at his arm that is covered in hoar frost from the tips of his fingers to his elbows, slowly inching upward. Yoongi just continues to hold his wrist, his amused smirk is the only indicator he even knows what's happening. 

Namjoon looks up at him in mild alarm, cautious as he moves into a normal standing position.

“Hey Yoongi,” he says, drawing out the name, “what are you doing?”

Yoongi just shrugs, letting go of Namjoon’s hand.

“Just making sure you weren’t dead.”

“By icing me?” Namjoon’s voice goes a slight octave up in his disbelief, hand slightly flailing to emphasize his point. He still can’t really move the other one. 

Yoongi just stares back at him as if he’s already bored with the conversation. “I saw at least six flies and a spider crawl into your mouth.”

Namjoon pauses and shuts his mouth, whining. “Yoongi, please defrost me, it hurts.”

Yoongi turns away for a moment and sighes. “Fine.” He rolls his eyes, but still waves his hand in front of Namjoon’s, the ice melting and disappearing almost in an instant. 

Namjoon gives a half smile, feeling his arm and massaging where the ice was moments before. He ducks and tip toes, trying to look for Seokjin in the hallway, past the crowds that reformed once the perfect duo passed. “Thanks hyung. It would’ve been so embarrassing if Seokjin saw me with an iced arm from my own teammate.” 

He sighs, admitting defeat, and turns back to Yoongi. He shrugs when he sees Yoongi looking at him with squinted eyes and an emotionless face. “Not that he probably know us, he’s too busy training and getting good grades and maintaining his flawless face to notice us but, still.”

Yoongi just rolls his eyes. “You’re fanboying again, might as well join the official fanclub, I hear they have monthly meetings and everything.” 

Namjoon whines, “That’s not funny. You know I’m still sensitive that the club didn’t work out. I couldn’t believe more people wouldn’t join.”

“Jesus, Joon.” Yoongi points to Namjoon’s books.

Namjoon looks at him, confused, before peering down where Yoongi was pointing. 

The textbook cover is cracked. Namjoon’s mouth opens wide in disbelief.

“Aw man, I can’t afford another textbook!”

He turns the book over to inspect it, gently looking over the top of the textblock, shoulders sagging in relief. “It’s just the covers, I can still read them. Do you have tape?”

Yoongi doesn’t wait for him to finish the sentence, just waves his hand again and lets his ice seal them. “Good thing only I can melt my ice, or like actual fire.” 

He smiles in spite of the persona he tries to give off. 

“Thanks,” Namjoon says in relief. 

Yoongi just shrugs his backpack up higher. “You done pining? Can we can get to class now? Ms. Park’ll have our ass if we’re late.” He starts to walk off anyway, Namjoon following behind him. 

“I wasn’t pining.”

“Uh-huh.”

 

Namjoon and Yoongi push past their classmates as they are walking out of their homeroom. Their hour of homeroom passed by like sludge, but Namjoon knows his ears are still a tinge red from when their Korean Literature teacher had him read the ending of his essay to the class, using it as her base board for class discussion.

Really, it went better than he thought. No one laughed at him, and he chanced a glance once to see that at least Seokjin seemed to be listening in interest to his thoughts, despite Jinyoung’s unimpressed eye roll in the seat next to him. It was almost worth having to walk to their next exam.

“I can’t believe we already have a test next week. We just turned in a paper, and she knows the showcase is coming up,” Yoongi complains as they make their way to the gym.

Namjoon just shrugs, holding onto both straps of his backpack. “You know Mrs. Park. Education matters more to her than mutation.”

“No one one wants an uneducated and uninformed hero saving them,” they both recite together. 

“Yeah, well, she could at least ease up a bit,” Yoongi says as he sighs, giving into his habit of making his personal bubble a few degrees cooler to encourage others to keep their distance. 

When Namjoon doesn’t answer he looks up at him at huffs in amusement. “Of course you don’t mind, teacher’s pet.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes.

“Yoongi, I’m not-”

“Not one of her favorites?” Yoongi looks up at him with far too much amusement.

“She might take an interest in you too if you actually tried for once in her class. She cares about people who care about their work.”

“I’m content in my complacency, thank you very much. You might wanna watch out for number two though, he looked ready to end you in class. ”

“I know, I don’t get what I did to him. I didn’t even know he knew me.”

Yoongi laughs a bit at the admission. “He doesn’t. You’re just some nerd threatening his pet position. I saw him going up to talk to Mrs. Park at the end of class. I’m sure the world will right itself and slip you back to third favorite by class tomorrow.”

Namjoon looks at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing Joon. Let’s just put that perceptive brain to use for this hero assessment, and then we can go to lunch” he says as they turn the corner, opaque windows lining the wall further down the hallway. 

Namjoon sighs. “Why couldn’t I have time travel as my mutation. Then I could prepare myself for what’s about to come.”

“That’s the power of foresight, Joon, and you know that shit’s subjective,” Yoongi says as they filter into the sliding glass doors of the gym along with their other Hero classmates.

They walk straight back into the locker rooms, to their usual spot in the far right corner, only briefly making eye contact with one or two of the few boys already their changing into their professionally made practice suits or team work out gear. Their school may allow for those out of uniform suits but, their given gym uniform off basketball shorts and a shirt with the school’s name on it is much cheaper (free) and all Namjoon and Yoongi needed. 

Everyone in their class are on different levels of the assessment. It’s all based on how you perform and score during the previous level, and whether your teacher thought you could improve or needed to be challenged. 

Namjoon and Yoongi are one of three groups planning on attempting level nine, since they passed level eight rather easily last time. They’d had a steady climb up the senior assessment levels, only getting held back on level one once, and being pushed down back to four after failing level five in the beginning of the year. 

They could have done better if they had practiced more, or at all, outside of school but, their lives as aspiring underground rappers take up most of their spare time between making music and winning battles. Besides, there aren’t many places for them to train without destroying things.

Soon the male, female, and gender neutral students all began to filter out of their respective locker rooms and into the stands of the observation room where a sound proof glass wall allow teachers and students to observe what was happening in the practice room below.

Mr. Lee starts to yell through the locker room doors for the rest of them to get a move on about ten minutes after the class period has started, lighting a fire under even Yoongi’s ass when he yells about the importance of time, and how a quick pace in this field equals more lives saved and less money taken from your government payout. Everyone seems to find a way to be dressed and in the observation room a few minutes after that, Namjoon and Yoongi’s inner pride settling when a few more stragglers come out after them.

Mr. Lee stands to the side, by the intercom, clearing his throat and waiting for them all to settle. Above him on a digital screen are the rankings, Namjoon just happens to glance up and see Seokjin and Jinyoung’s names with the phrase Level 10 next to them, he gulps.

“Whenever you’re all ready, I’ve got all day,” he says with a bit of force when they seem to ignore him.

No one misses his slight smirk when the class settles down after that. 

“Now, four years of doing this, you all know how this works. You will all be going up depending on your levels. Lower levels to higher levels, people within the same level will go up in alphabetical order. The same level does not mean the same exact course for everyone. It is a randomized simulator so that you can learn, not so that you can cheat. Also, yes, Daeshim, you may take notes.”

They all laugh as a lanky kid with glasses slowly puts his hands down, a smile on his face as he nods at Mr. Lee. 

“Alright, up first we have Kihwan, level six.”

They all turn to look as a tone, golden skinned boy in a dark blue workout suit stands up and makes his way out the door Mr. Lee holds open for him, running his fingers through the front of his hair, further pushing it to the side as he makes his way out the room and down the stairs. 

The class goes on like that. Each solo, duo, or a rare trio hero or hero group are called forward and make their way to the practice room. Mr. Lee is always waiting for them to get down there and give them a minute to situate themselves, using the intercom to tell them to let him know when they are ready. Some are too nervous or too focused to speak, giving a simple thumbs up, while others speak out, knowing that the speakers in the practice room are outputted to the observation room. 

The assessment begins by stating in a bold red which level you are starting, and ends with the simulator stating in a bold red your pass or fail results for you and everyone else in your class to see. 

Everyone comes back sweating, guzzling down the water or sports drink they brought with them as Mr. Lee gives them positive feedback, and says whether or not they did well, before calling up the next hero or heroes. Some slump over in tiredness or massage their aching muscles, while others are given a pass from class and leave straight after their assessment to the nurses office to take care of small injuries, like scrapes and sprained ankles. 

By the time the class period is halfway done, Namjoon and Yoongi are the last level nine to go up, going off of Yoongi’s name starting with Y. Namjoon, wipes his hands on his shorts as he stands up, leading the way as they walk out of the room. 

“Don’t worry Joon, we’ll be fine,” Yoongi says, patting him on the shoulder once the door closes behind him.

“I know.” 

“Remember, we can ice or punch our way out of anything,” Yoongi continues as they make their way to the front of the practice room door. 

“Yeah, right,” Namjoon says, staring at the double doors but not opening it. 

“Do you need me to open the door? Your super-human strength giving out or…,”

Namjoon can’t help his silent laugh, smiling as he looks down in slight embarrassment. Yoongi giving a small smile of his own, knowing that his joke worked enough to bring Namjoon out of his head. 

“I know we’ll be fine, I just can’t help getting in my head sometimes,” he says, looking up to meet Yoongi’s eyes.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Yoongi responds with, bumping his shoulder into Namjoon’s and giving off a slight chill.

“Okay,” is Namjoon’s quiet response.

He takes a deep breath and opens the door, holding it behind him for Yoongi as they both step through to the blank room. 

“Took you boys long enough, I was starting to think you both decided to ditch,” Mr. Lee says over the intercom as soon as they walk in.

They both give a tight smile, and try to appear calm, Yoongi giving off a slight chill when he feels Namjoon’s body heat spike. 

“Nope, we’re all good,” Namjoon tries through a rough voice.

“Okay, whenever you boys are ready.”

They both stretch a bit, and ignore all the eyes they can feel trained on them from the observation room. 

“You ready,” Yoongi asks as he stretches out his hand, looking over at Namjoon who is jumping up and down slightly, waking his body up.

“Of course. Born for it,” he replies, a little unsure, but letting a little humor seep through anyway. He stretches out his legs and his arms for good measure, while Yoongi gives up the pretense and just stands there, staring at Namjoon while he finishes up his last leg stretch.

Namjoon stands up and gives Yoongi a nod. 

Yoongi nods back and they both turn to face the long, empty, white room. 

Yoongi raises his arm and gives Mr. Lee a thumbs up from behind him. 

A few beats later the lights dim and the virtual reality of a rural, desolate, open country field, envelopes them. There are trees lining three sides, a little over a hundred meters away on either side. The only thing they can obviously see at first glance looks to be an abandoned shed, or a tiny house to the left of them, or near the back of the field if the ongoing open sprawl of tall grass is the front. There is a window on either side and a rusting tin roof. The concrete seems to be worse for wear as well. 

“Well, I guess that’s where we’re headed,” Yoongi says, pointing, he and Namjoon wordlessly making their way. 

The dry grass crunches under their feet, and a few steps in, the holographic sun begins to beat down on them like a hot balm. They both expect it, the virtual reality kicking in to make the situation as real as possible but, they soldier on without acknowledging the change. 

By the time they get to the house, they’re tacky with the beginnings of sweat, skin starting to prickle with an itchy feeling, and the areas being brushed on by grass becoming too sensitive to ignore. Casually their palms scratch down their legs and over forearms as Yoongi and Namjoon each take a window to look through. 

Namjoon takes the left window and sees a tiny bed in the corner, right under the window. It’s spread nicely with a wool blanket and the white sheet folded over, a white single pillow sitting atop it. There is a three drawer stand with an oil lamp on top of it on the other side but, besides that, nothing of interest on his side. He can see the beginnings of a sitting area on the right side, and what looks like the kitchen behind the doorway that leads out of the bedroom.

“Empty. I just see a bedroom,” Namjoon yells before pushing off the window and looking over at Yoongi.

Yoongi, staring into the right window, and only seeing the wooden sitting area, one table and one seat, backed away from the window as well. 

“May be something in that kitchen.”

Namjoon shrugs, “Only one way to find out.” 

He walks to the door and turns the knob, Yoongi coming up close to him for back up.

The door creaks open without a fuss. Namjoon lets it swing out to a natural stop, waiting for any type of movement or sound to arise and hint danger. After a moment of being met with nothing he looks at Yoongi, who nods in confirmation, and they both make their way inside. 

Namjoon goes left, searching through the dresser, while Yoongi goes right to look in the kitchen and see what’s inside. Namjoon opens up the first drawer, which is filled with shirts strewn in it, the disarray is different than the tidiness and simplicity of the rest of the cabin Namjoon has seen so far. It is as if someone has stored them away in a rush, and he starts to sift through them, shaking out some of the shirts to see if something is wrapped in them. It is strange they haven’t encountered anything except this house yet, and he wants to find any clue that will tell them where the hostages are or who they will have to fight. 

He can hear Yoongi in the kitchen, opening cupboards, the sound of a pot falling over, but, again, besides Yoongi banging around in the kitchen, it still seems like they were alone.

Namjoon closes the top drawer with caution and stands up, looking around the room as he tries to sift through the facts. Something was off. He looks over the house again, the placement of furniture, the wooden floors- 

Something in Namjoon’s peripheral catches his attention, and his head snaps up to look out of the window. 

There is a large drone of some sort heading their way.

Something is coming for them.

He hears a snap and a crash in the kitchen, followed by Yoongi’s trademark “fuck.”

“Yoongi,” he calls out, stretching every letter, eyes frozen wide for a moment before taking off outside to go investigate, ignoring Yoongi yelling his name back at him. 

His eyes squint against the bright sun, and he shades them with his hand as he looks around to see who is controlling it but, he can’t see anyone.

He looks up at the drone to see if he can recognize a marking or what the threat is to them. There is a rig underneath it but, it doesn’t look to be holding anything and, while it clearly is significant, he turns around to confer with Yoongi inside when his eyes meet with someone who looks to be a dark skinned Indian woman with tears flowing down her face. She looks frightened, arms held up by her face, hands clutching the sheer duppatta she wears around her shoulders.

Namjoon blinks himself back into focus, switching into speaking English almost subconsciously as he takes a cautious step toward her, hands up so she knows he isn’t a threat. 

“Hi, are you...kidnapped? I’m here t-” 

The woman backs up, revealing three other people. It can be out of fear but, he hopes it’s just to let him in. He registers that the house oddly smells of smoke as he starts to step in, but then he is being yanked back, head whipping back and then forth with the strength and velocity of the pull as he is dragged in the air. 

Two cables wrap around his middle, and the more he tries to wiggle free, the tighter they get. He looks up to see where they are coming from, who their enemy is but, instead he just sees the cables extending from the rig underneath the drone. He looks back down at the ground, a bit relieved when he realizes he is still low enough to see the house but, then he registers the smoke coming from the back and billowing into the air, and the flicker of relief is snuffed out. He is at least five meters off the ground, and his heart is already beating like crazy from the adrenaline, and now it decides to join his stomach as dread takes over. 

Where is Yoongi? 

Namjoon looks back up at the drone and does his best to contain the panic that is making a home for itself where his heart used to be, spreading like ivy through his veins. He takes a sharp look down at the house, and back up at the drone. The cords have stopped recoiling and if he reaches out, he can probably touch the bottom of the aircraft, and that’s all he needs. 

His face hardens as he makes his decision.

He weileds back his right fist and puts as much strength as he can gather while suspended in mid air into punching the underside of the drone. There is a split second feeling of victory as he feels his fist punch through the drone, and then back to dread when he sees his arm stuck all way in.

“Oh, shit!”

The sound of the engine fades out, and he feels the jolt in his stomach as the propellers make an instant stop.

Then he is free falling.

Namjoon looks at the floor, coming up under him fast, and back up to his hand. He wiggles it around a bit and realizes the width of his bicep is the only thing keeping his arm stuck in the hole, the cords around him going dead the instant the battery died. 

The wind whips past him as he plummets to the ground with his weight as it’s anchor. When he is close enough to the ground he takes a deep breath to gather his courage and wiggles his arm free, swinging them both around, as he loses the weight of the drone.

He falls partially on his feet but, falls over and rolls, the wind knocked out of him so hard he barely registers the drone crashing next to him. He decides to never curse his clumsiness again, since he is pretty sure it had saved him from having the drone crash and burn right on top of him. 

He forces himself up to a sitting position, the sweat all over his body past uncomfortable long ago, makes his roll in the grass worse. He groans as he gathers all the strength he can to stagger to a stand. He knows something is sprained, or broken but, as the smoke gets worse from the house, all he can think about is Yoongi needing his help.

He shuffles into the house as best he can, pushing the door open so carelessly it bangs against the wall and falls off the hinges. He looks up to see Yoongi sweating, hair matted to his forehead with his legs bracing against the floor, giving the full force of his glacial blast to a guy in all black who looks no better, and just as angry, producing what Namjoon assumes is lava. 

The smoke is billowing from where both of their powers meet, and there are black bubbles of all shapes, most with orange in the middle, looking about ready to eat the house alive as some of them slug around on whatever surface they’re on. 

They both seem to be giving as good as they get, but Namjoon can tell Yoongi has been using the full force of his power for the majority of the fight by the redness of fingers and the red splotches on his arm. The fact that he is holding up so well under such heat is a testament to Yoongi’s strength. 

Namjoon freezes as panic and adrenaline override his brain, trying to figure a way to help.

He looks around, assessing the scene to try and piece together what is going on. The hostages huddle on the bed in the furthest corner from the battle, while the smoke emitting from the back follows the fight as it makes its way forward with the wind from the front door picking it up.

Yoongi tosses his pressure to the right, and pulls back, sending the lava man off balance and falling over in the same direction, and that’s when Namjoon sees it. There, where the hallway ends and the kitchen begins, is a square hole in the ground. The hostages had been hiding underneath a trap door! That must have been the snap and crash he heard from Yoongi in the kitchen. 

“Joon, take the hostages! Run!”

Yoongi’s yelling brings him out of his overworking brain and he looks back at him. He has gotten the upperhand, successfully icing the man’s hands to the floor. The black sludge is covering them now but, it seems to only make the man more angry- as in there is literal smoke coming out of his ears and mouth as he yells.

Yoongi keeps icing them as the man keeps breaking free but, the smoke from lava meeting ice, as well as the heat of their surroundings, and what the man is emitting is starting to take a toll on him. 

“Fuck that! If I leave you’d die,” Namjoon yells, brain kicking into gear as he runs over.

“It’s a fucking assessment! Our job is to save the hostages so, save the damn hostages.” Yoongi grits his teeth as he works double time to ice the man’s hands and face before he can break free of the hold.

“It’s supposed to simulate a real life situation. If this was real life, you would die, I’m not-”

The man’s whole body bursts and turns into living lava, he yells with anger, doing his best to get the upper hand.

They both jump back in surprise, mouths open and eyes wide. The whole house smells like smoke, and Yoongi’s ice turns black on the man’s hand and face, making him look like some sort of hell demon Namjoon is sure he’ll have nightmares about. 

“I tried to be nice boy, give you a clean death. Now look what you’ve done,” the man yells, his voice thick with the sound of gravel and molten.

They both act at the same time.

The villain starts to produce enough lava to drown the whole house. Yoongi wields both his arms back like a Javelin thrower, at the same time Namjoon swings his right hand. Yoongi throws his arms forward with a determined yell and two massive icicles shoot out from both hands, stabbing the man in the face and the stomach, while Namjoon’s cry mingles with Yoongi’s as his fist collides with the wooden floor beneath them.

The villain’s evil laughter gets cut short as he starts to fall, until Namjoon’s punch has them all flying up with the floor.

The punch is so hard and so desperate, the simulation glitches- another hole in the school, great. Yoongi’s back collides with the wall behind him before he slides down and slumps back on it, while Namjoon gets pushed back into the tiny table for one that is in the far right, bringing it down with him as he crashes to the floor.

There is silence for a moment, everyone, including the fake hostages trying to catch their breath.

Yoongi lifts his head up to see the lava guy turn back into his human form, eyes wide and mouth open, the epitome of surprise. His chest doesn’t move though, and Yoongi takes enough comfort in that to relax a little before he takes in the state of the house. There are holes in the floors where the wood flooring broke, showing the underground cellar, some of the walls are cracked, and part of the roof in the back looks ready to cave in. Fuck.

“Now do you wanna save the hostages?”

He hears Namjoon wince, and a few shuffling sounds, “Yeah, yeah….we can do that.”

He hears footsteps, one more shuffled than the other, and looks over to see Namjoon’s feet as he favors his left leg. His eyes roam up to see Namjoon with a few scratches on his face and a hand out to help him. He sighs and takes it, heaving himself up, wincing when he finally stands up straight.

“That can’t be good,” Namjoon says, face pinched like he can feel the pain.

“No shit,” Yoongi mumbles as he limps his way to the hostages.

“Sorry,” Namjoon says as he follows him.

The hostages curl further up to each other as they stare up at them, and Yoongi does his best to look trusting.

“Hi, we’re here to save you. Will you please come with us to safety?”

The same woman Namjoon first saw gives a slight nod of her head and takes the first step forward off the bed.

Yoongi sighs in relief, shoulders sagging. “Great.” 

Namjoon tries to give them all a smile as they shuffle past, following Yoongi out the door with him bringing up the rear. The house gives a slight creak, and they all put a little pep in their step to make sure they all get out of there alive.

They walk back in silence, the tall grass still as itchy as every, and once they make their way to the end of the field, the female hostage turns around to them and give them a slight nod of her head in thanks before she disappears into the trees, the rest following behind her. 

As the last hostage disappears, so does the simulation, and Namjoon and Yoongi turn to stare at each other. They are still sweaty, battered and bruised but, it’s the only thing left of the entire scenario. They face the white wall at the end of the room, and Namjoon puts a hand around Yoongi’s shoulder to help himself turn around to look up at their teacher, the need for the pretense of fitness no longer required.

The first thing Namjoon sees when he turns around is the hole he punched in the floor. He groans at the sight, face scrunching up as he puts a hand over his eyes to hide himself from the embarrassment. Yoongi, in all his best friend wisdom, doesn’t laugh or make a sarcastic comment like he usually does. Instead, He pats Namjoon’s shoulder and gives a thumbs up to their teacher. 

All the students are standing up by the window. Some still have their mouths open in shock or are whispering to each other, others are wide eyed or eyebrows raised. Their teacher does his best to stay passive but, Yoongi can’t help the tiny proud quirk of his lips at the slight surprise on Mr. Lee’s face before he registers that they are waiting for his response.

“Uhh, right. Besides the fact that you broke the school again, good work boys. You tend to stay together so the simulator wanted to try and see how well you could do on your own in situations that may not be the most suitable for your mutations. You showed strength and control by finding a way to use them and make them work for you.”

He taps something into his tablet. “Namjoon, your strength level….. The simulator shows that you’ve broken a new record. And Yoongi, are you aware you made glass, son? I have never seen such-“ He clears his throat.

“You two are natural heroes, you should be proud of yourselves. You boys make a very good team. The simulation has advised a bump up all the way to level ten, and by the new hole in the floor, I would have to agree. However, the simulator is going to be down for the rest of the day so, we’ll resume the assessment tomorrow.”

 

The rest of their classmates clap and cheer for them, and neither can keep the smile off their face. Namjoon’s is all shy dimples, while Yoongi’s is a front teeth showcasing satisfied smirk.

“Yoongi, could you please come up here for your hall pass so you can escort yourself and Mr. Kim to the nurses office please? I’m not even sure how you two survived each other just now,” Mr. Lee ends with a bemused laugh.

“Years of practice,” Yoongi mutters back as he helps Namjoon hobble out of the practice room. 

“So, that’s what they do with former captured villains huh,” Yoongi says after a beat of silence.

“What?”

“That guy was a famous villain from a decade ago, Molten Lava.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen. “You’re right, he was taken down by The Tempest’s team TLSD! That was a crazy fight the Olympic stadium was almost destroyed.”

“Yeah, looks like all he’s good for now is being scanned and simulated for high schoolers to practice on.” Yoongi shrugs. 

“Maybe it’s their way of saying this is what you’re reduced to if you go this path. At Least two percent of every class becomes a villain.” Namjoon shudders trying to imagine having to apprehend or even kill classmates he knew for years. “Wow they really scanned an actual super villain and put him against us?”

“I guess to keep us on our toes,” Yoongi lets out an exhausted breath, “How annoying.”

He helps Namjoon lean against the wall and pats him on the shoulder before heading up the stairs to get their hall passes.

Watching them walk out, Seokjin and Jinyoung are looking at the digital score chart, they’re watching the numbers collect under the Level Nine Exam and when it stops, the names shift around, shoving several names down and two new names illuminate in yellow. Yoongi and Namjoon were now number eight and seven respectively.

“A twelve rank jump in one exam, well they were good,” Seokjin’s eyes squint at the screen and he leans in as if there might be a glitch in the system.  
“Hm.” Jinyoung responds eyes flitting over the digital scoreboard for the senior class. “They were sloppy.”

“But they don’t even train and they handled that level nine pretty well.” Seokjin leans back.  
“So it’s their powers, and luck.” There’s a hint of bitterness laced in Jinyoung’s tone. It comes out as a whisper and that makes Seokjin turn to face him directly, a small but fiery smile on his face.

“Maybe so, but you gotta admit it makes things for the senior showcase a little bit more interesting I was starting to think no one was actually trying outside of the top five.”

Jinyoung doesn’t respond, a few seconds pass and he nudges Seokjin’s shoulder. “Come on one more class and we’re done.”

 

The seven o clock hour rolls around by the time Seokjin gets home. And the first thing he does after he peels off his sneakers is toss his school bag on the kitchen counter in the most lavish school drama fashion he could. The bag skids across the marble top island until it stops in the middle, just a couple inches away from his father’s glass of scotch.

His father looks up from his laptop, just with the arch of his brow- round dark eyes set on Seokjin, and he shifts his elbow on the bar to reach for the glass. His dark hair appears in a neat array, as if he only attempted to brush it. Otherwise he was still wearing his fine fabric Tom Ford robe from that morning, and assumedly his signature white slippers.

“You’re in a good mood Jinnie.” Seunghyun’s voice is a smooth rumble. 

“Yes, since you have the confidence to toss your bag right at your father’s afternoon pick me up.” Jiyong’s voice travels from the kitchen, not because he was preparing dinner, no that was Seokjin’s self-appointed job, but because he himself just had to appear with a glass of dark red wine in hand and leopard print robe draped over his shoulders (well one shoulder as another sleeve was daintily falling off as if he was in the midst of a teasing editorial photoshoot).

“I knew it wasn’t going to hit the cup.” Seokjin says with a shrug, he drifts into the rather enormous tiled off white kitchen, and presses a kiss to Jiyong’s cheek while on his way to the fridge to snatch up a banana milk.

“Prove it.” Jiyong says with a tinge of petulance and Seokjin hesitates, because if there was one thing he couldn’t tell sometimes, is whether his mother (yes, mother, oftentimes people still fumbled between whether or not to call their carrier mother but Seokjin’s been told since day one ‘I carried you, why should only women be called mother? Because it’s the norm? Ridiculous.’) was joking or not. 

Jiyong tilts his chin towards the bag. “Go on, try again prove it.”

Seokjin cracks a faux smile, making sure that every tooth showed. “But then you’ll see it coming this time.”

He stabbed the straw into the top of the carton and took a long sip. “Anyways, parents, the showcase is now only a week away.” 

Seunghyun makes an amused sound from the back of his throat and sets back his now half a glass. “As you’ve been reminding us through digital calendar, physical calendar, and alerted countdown texts.”

“Gotta make sure you’re paying attention is all.”

“Since when do we not pay attention to our only child.” Jiyong’s voice just had the tinge of affronted-ness and Seokjin grabbed his hand, gently removing it from whatever device on the island countertop he was tinkering with.

“I’m not saying that, it’s just, you know as CEOs, former idols, one being a Hero consultant, and the other a Custom super suit maker,” He watches as Jiyong’s eyes flitted towards him, while Seunghyun’s move back to his tablet with a little amused smirk. He could tell his mother was in between preening and ‘What do you want.’. “It might slip through the cracks of your very in demand calendars.”

“Ok what do you-“ 

“Nothing, I just can’t wait for Jinyoung and I’s potential coming of age trip to Japan, in celebration of us becoming top of the class at the end of the event.”

Then Seunghyun stutters over his scotch, Jiyong makes a sort of pitying sound in Seunghyun’s direction but makes no move to check his husband’s condition.

“Of course,” Jiyong says with the daintiest sip of his wine.

“Top of the class you say.” Seunghyun says, his eyes traveling to where Seokjin’s hand stretched to the top cabinet and pulled out a bag of matcha cookies.

“Mhhmmm,” Seokjin’s arm retracts back. “I mean, it’s kind of expected of us at this point right?”

“So I’m assuming you’ve been training then,” And there it was the slight pointed hint in his father’s voice, one that might as well be followed with ‘Don’t underestimate those around you.’

“Are you doubting our son won’t be top of the class, No wait,” Jiyong set his gaze on Seunghyun and crossed one arm to rest his hand in the crook of the arm holding his wine glass. “Are you even hinting that we won’t be supportive whether he’s top of the class, or number ten.”

“N-No I just,” Seunghyun exhales already feeling the weight of losing this battle between his son’s wide eyed gaze and his husband’s sharp one. “I wanted to remind him-“ 

“He’s gotten enough reminding, what with your simulation exercises on the weekend, I swear-“

Seokjin could see the nervous pink splotching on his father’s neck and he places his hand on Jiyong’s elbow. “Mom it’s ok, I know what dad means. And I need to practice, that number three Minhyun is right on our heels with his electricity mutation.”

“Ugh, you and Seunghyun, just- don’t overwork yourself, worry about the school festivals for once.”

Seokjin blinks. “Our homeroom festival committee doesn’t begin meeting until a week after the showcase, Jinyoung and I made sure of that.”

Jiyong snorts a tinge of a smile playing at his lips. “Of course you did.”

“Anyways I’m off to train, there’s still leftover Japchae from last night right? You’re good with dinner right?”

Jiyong ruffles Seokjin’s hair. “Jinnie, we can order for ourselves if we need to, we’re the parents-“

“Who can’t cook.”

“But we can get a chef who can.”

“Boring. Get one when I move out.”

“Oh well I guess we’re never hiring one then.” Jiyong responds without missing a beat.

“You’re going to have to come to terms with the possibility eventually.”

“Hm. No.”

Seokjin tosses away his banana milk carton and makes his way to the staircase, ready to head to the second floor training room, where he knew a grey training suit would be waiting for him, and the settings would still be on Level six from last night’s warmup.

Something, a warm dull feeling, like knocking- probed his mind, when he neared the top of the staircase. 

He could tell it was his father being polite, asking for permission to communicate telepathically with him, since Seokjin has yet to fully be able to block him out. 

‘Yes?’ He starts, it feels like opening a door whenever he lets his father in his thoughts, a guarded one, maybe the front foyer of a home where the rest was sealed off. 

‘I don’t mean to pressure you.’ Seokjin could feel the regret in his father’s tone. He held back his laugh. 

‘You’re not, don’t be so sensitive, I do this because I want to.’ It was an automatic movement, to walk down the hall until he reaches a large two panel black door, the tinted windows lined a good span of the hallway walls, and there is a keycode to put in on the touch screen. The training room is the second biggest room in the house, custom made, and something that rivaled the design of the school’s.

There were some perks of secretly being the child of a former legendary Superhero.

‘It’s ok dad, really, I know what I need to do, and I know what I want.’ Now he was pulling on the grey practice suit, and feeling the material meld to his body. 

‘Don’t overdo it, breaks are important too.’

Seokjin rolls his eyes, and speeds through the touch screen training level options.

‘Level Ten beginning in Thirty seconds, welcome Seokjin.’ A simulated woman’s voice reads.

‘Seokjin-‘ There’s a cautious warning in his father’s voice and it unnerved him that his father could hear what he was hearing.

‘Like you said, don’t overdo it, got it.’ And like that, he closed the mental door, feeling a shiver of satisfaction that it seemed to seal a little tighter than before, rejecting his father’s interference. 

“Besides number three would just be settling.”

An hour later Seokjin was downing a thirty liter bottle of water like his life depended on it. His muscles felt sore, which was a rarity with the way his skin and muscles often adapted to pain and recovery due it’s toughness.

Maybe he did overdo it a tad.

The cooldown room has color changing LED lights that illuminate the path whenever someone is sensed. Seokjin could feel the temperature change in the small room right as he entered, and red brightened and reflected off of him. He grabs a hand towel, and his cell phone.

Eight pm, that’s not too late. Seokjin scrolls down his contacts without half a thought and is wiping down his forehead when Jinyoung picks up after the first ring.

Jinyoung sounds half out of breath when he immediately starts talking. “You usually call me by seven-“

“I know, I decided to train.”

“Hm, me too actually. Well Papa had me doing mental exercises again while in the sauna.”

There’s a beat of silence, Seokjin’s feet take him towards the exit. And then he stops. Jinyoung starts talking again, but all he can see is a tall black tinted case. He presses his hand to it, like he’s done every so often, and feels the cool glass warm up as lights illuminate inside the rectangular case. 

A suit is suspended in the middle, a unique one made of thick material, one of a kind, it melds to the mannequin’s frame, all a dusky gray with just the trimming lines of blue and an interlaced large ‘T’ in the center of the chest.

“One week.” Seokjin says in the midst of Jinyoung’s rant about his literature essay.

“And we kick ass and get out of this boring school and start doing something that actually matters.” Jinyoung responds like it’s clockwork.

Seokjin’s fingers trace the frame of the T in front of him. 

“Yeah-“

If Jinyoung were to ask Seokjin if he is nervous, Seokjin would lie and say he’s nothing but excited.

However deep down, after that night, he felt like a week went by a little too fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you see Seokjin’s parents coming? Do you see what we meant by ‘crack’?
> 
> Five points for whoever can guess Jinyoung’s parents.

**Author's Note:**

> Please take that Slow Burn tag seriously, this is going to be a long ride.
> 
> And since it’s an entire world we’re building, expect a lot of different idols to show up over time. All characters tagged will be clearly featured in multiple chapters, so we won’t tag everyone that appear.
> 
> Drop a Kudos or a Comment if you’ve got any theories about what’s to come or if you just enjoy our story ^^-
> 
> Sincerely The Authors,  
> Bougie & Thot


End file.
